


Acute Rejection

by KJGooding



Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Autistic Julian Bashir, Canon Autistic Character, Episode: s05e16 Doctor Bashir I Presume, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Memories, Multi, Prosthesis, Surgery, Trans Julian Bashir, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding
Summary: As more hosts and symbionts undergo Disjoining, Julian and Ezri must navigate an increasingly worrying list of mental and physical side-effects.  It turns out the Old Symbiosis Commission was correct about separation being a matter of life and death, but it is far more complex than hemorrhaging.
Relationships: Ezri Dax/Lenara Kahn, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak
Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1251704
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Acute Rejection

**_2380_ **

****

“You needn’t worry about me, my dear. I won’t get queasy,” Elim assured, leaning persistently over Julian’s shoulder while he arranged the surgical theater. 

“I’m only worried about learning _why_ that might be,” Julian mumbled. 

“I wasn’t about to say,” Elim went on. “You have _such_ an ample imagination.”

“Thank you.”

Julian had not been _nervous_ about a procedure in several years, but because the setting and equipment was still relatively new to him at the Medical Center in Cardassia City, he was making more verifications than usual. Already, he had tried three different ways to arrange his tray of instruments, concerned about efficiency as well as clarity of understanding for his viewers. Most of his fears, in fact, stemmed from being watched. He had made a quiet admission of this to Elim, and was now receiving reassurance in the form of his partner’s _‘help_.’

Elim set to fussing with the chairs outside of the operating room, where the students would sit. In addition to the class Julian taught at the newly established and Bajoran-funded University, they were expecting a delegation of internists from Trill, and a handful of other Starfleet medical students. Julian had parted with the Federation on uneasy terms, and felt self-conscious about this new arrangement, where his work was suddenly of greater value with more than his reputation attached to it. Ezri’s successful separation had gained attention of Federation officers all over the quadrant, but Julian still felt it was most important to the locally affected population: Joined Trill. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Elim offered, lulling Julian out of his self-imposed haze.

“No, not for now,” he said. “All that’s left now is to wait.”

***

He was scheduled to meet with his first patient two hours prior to surgery - enough time, by the limited standards Julian was accustomed to working with, to familiarize himself with the patient’s history and trepidations. Already, he had read over what he could of her public profile, and he had sent three yet-unanswered communiques to Ezri, asking for more specific details. 

The patient was one of Ezri’s advisors on the provisional governing board, installed by Starfleet in place of the overturned Symbiosis Commission, hoping to offer temporary stability until new laws could be written. Lieutenant Materrin Sayl was the first volunteer to undergo the Disjoining procedure, and she expressed a desperation Julian found both sad and intriguing.

Julian shook her hand as soon as she stepped from the Trill ship, arriving just as scheduled on the University landing pad. It was much safer for Joined Trill to land than to transport over long distances, just as it was safer for an unregistered ship to get out of patrolled orbit as quickly as possible. Materrin was young and lively, undoubtedly nervous about the procedure, and Julian felt rude for asking about the assistive device she wore on her hand. He would not have noticed if he had not just touched it, felt the metal gears gliding along his own palm as they broke apart. 

“I’ve had difficulty with typing, since my Joining eight years ago,” said Materrin, assuring him he was not out of line. 

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry to bring it up. My wife, Ezri… er… Captain Tigan, she had a similar problem holding a pen, after hers.”

“It won’t be a problem after we’re done,” Materrin said, with a good-natured shrug. 

“No, I suppose not.”

Julian grinned, always readily charmed by a friendly approach - much like his own - but the expression faded when he noticed Ezri stepping off the ship next, behind her advisor.

“Doctor,” she said, professionally offering her own hand forward. 

He took it and held it loosely, deciding against asking to be called by his first name. He had asked her so often already, but it seemed to be too intimate for the circumstances in which Ezri visited him, these days.

“Captain,” he replied. “What brings you here?”

“Thank you again for doing this. And I just… wanted a break.”

He heard a familiar giggle from somewhere behind Ezri, soft and stifled into clumsy hands… _Rali’s_. His stomach did a flip. 

“You did _not_ bring our daughter,” he said, in a vain attempt to convince himself the laugh belonged to another child. “Ezri, it’s a highly-invasive fourteen-hour surgery. What were you thinking?”

Ezri Tigan’s confidence easily rivaled Julian’s, and she leaned forward to meet his eyes without hesitation. 

“She’s here with me to support her _other_ parents,” Ezri said firmly. “Lenara and Kahn are on your waitlist, you _know_ that.”

“It might take me _weeks_ to get to the bottom of that list - ‘Starfleet officers first,’” he quoted bitterly, “ _you_ know _that_.”

Even as he spoke, he could see Lenara midway through her balancing act, holding Dax’s portable tank and Rali’s hand, carefully descending the shuttle ramp. 

“ _And_ ,” Ezri spoke in a quiet, serious voice, “I’m not sure how safe it will be for her on Trill, after we go through with this. There are a lot of moving pieces right now.”

“You think she should stay here?”

“I don’t know. A lot of that’ll depend on the reaction your first procedure gets, Doctor.”

“Thank you for the reminder…” he said. 

He tried to turn away quickly, so Rali would not notice him at all. Lenara was walking slowly, hampered and weighed down as she was, and he was afraid of exchanging greetings, as his tight schedule would preclude any further conversation. So, with his heart feeling empty, he rushed away, and did not turn around, even when he swore he heard Rali calling out for him. There was nothing he could do about it now.

***

Elim’s next offer of assistance was met with enthusiasm: he volunteered to sit beside Materrin and ask her a few questions while Julian and Kelas were occupied with their disinfectant routine. 

“And what are you looking forward to most, Lieutenant, following your procedure?” Elim asked; he had a way of sounding both friendly and convincingly professional, enough to make anyone talk to him. 

“Feeling like myself,” Materrin said, without hesitation. 

Julian turned away from the ultraviolet station in time to see her flex her fingers before curling them into loose fists. 

“In what way, exactly?” Elim drove onward. 

“I, myself, am not an engineer,” said Materrin. “Before this, I spent five years doing _nothing_ but repairing phaser arrays. I can’t remember a single step; it all comes from the symbiont. I am through pretending that it’s _me_ , doing these things. It dictates my every move.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling,” Elim said gently. 

Having finished with his preparation, Julian came to stand beside the bed where Materrin was situated, furling and unfurling her fingers, clapping them hopelessly together. He nudged Elim’s arm, asking him to sit outside, where the video feed of the procedure was just about to begin broadcasting. Already, the students and Trill representatives were gathered to watch, and Elim sat down in their midst, looking understandably proud of his partners, as they began their work. 

“You don’t remember a single step of your repair work?” Julian asked, when the door was shut. 

“Not one, and I don’t want to,” Materrin mumbled. 

“Well,” Julian said, trying to sound friendly through his mask, “I can certainly take care of that for you. Begin anaesthesia, please.”

Kelas took responsibility for this particular role, and they watched both Julian and their patient carefully, as they administered the dose. 

Fourteen hours was an overstated estimate, in the end. It took only ten, but remained just as exhausting for all involved. Julian had spatial and visual recordings collected by each of his surgical tools, as well as from the lighted band he wore on his forehead, when the other angles became too difficult to distinguish. Through a speaker system, he fielded near-constant questions, and narrated each of the major steps. 

“...preparing to close…” he said, gesturing with a slight tip of his forehead toward the incision, illuminating it on the viewscreen outside. “We have the symbiont in a recuperation tank, we’re monitoring the magnesium and potassium levels through the panel on the side. If the symbiont is adjusting as desired, and isn’t showing any obvious signs of distress - these are sentient beings, remember - _then_ we can close the incision.”

“So the key is to satisfy the need for input experienced by the symbiotic nerve?” Elim, not a student, asked. 

Julian turned and looked over his shoulder, through the two-way glass. Most of the students were still present, taking diligent notes on their tablets, but some of the seats had cleared throughout the exhausting demonstration. 

“Yes, dear,” Julian said, satisfied enough with proceedings to drop his professional tone, for a moment. “We’ve… ‘tied,’ so to speak… all of the redundant tubes the symbiont would rely on inside the host’s body: one for feeding, one for translating synaptic patterns, one to help synchronize the two heartbeats… anything the host no longer needs to mutually process with the symbiont.”

“Is there a neurosurgical element?” Elim asked. 

“In my history with this procedure,” Julian said, beginning to set the diameter of his autosuture’s output, “no, one isn’t necessary. One might choose to follow up with removing the memories implanted by the symbiont but I… personally, I’m not comfortable with memory-altering procedures, no matter the Federation standpoint. In Captain Tigan’s case, she preserved key memories she experienced while Joined to Dax. And in Lieutenant…” he realized he did not know her Unjoined name, “Materrin’s case, the memories did not seem to form correctly during the Joining, anyway.”

“Is that indicative of some larger underlying problem?”

“ _Elim_ ,” Julian said, feeling his patience tested after the long procedure. “A problem with the Symbiosis Commission, maybe. But this is experimental surgery. The point is to find out and make adjustments for each consequent case. Now… for those still listening, I will be asleep for about one-and-a-half shifts in my office, and the next surgery is scheduled for 18:00 hours tomorrow. If you’d like to work as an alternating physician’s assistant, please submit your credentials to Doctor Parmak… I would like every one of you who _wants_ hands-on experience with this procedure to get it during this next week. Thank you.”

“I assume I should count myself excluded?” Elim ventured, in a half-serious voice. 

Julian watched the final millimeter of the incision close itself, sides of skin pulled together by the force of his autosuture, sterilizing as it went along. 

“As far as I can work out, _dear_ , your credentials are inflicting bodily torture and field-dressing your own wounds. I’d have to pass, I’m afraid.”

“Nothing a symbiont or two isn’t guilty of,” Elim remarked, sounding pleased enough with the whole exchange. 

Julian laughed dryly as he finally freed himself of his mask, slipping it into the laundry chute as he made his way to the door. His work was done, for the time being. Materrin would awaken naturally in a few hours, and checking her vitals and general mood was something he could trust a Trill orderly to handle on their own. 

He came out of the room, followed closely by Kelas, and sat down in the seat nearest to Elim, watching the remaining students pack their belongings. 

“We can’t figure out what a symbiont is feeling until it’s been separated,” Julian said, making a weak gesture toward the surgical suite in illustration of his point. 

Inside, the Sayl symbiont was swirling peacefully in its tank, waiting to be offered eosin dye for communication, later on.

“I must admit, it _is_ fascinating,” Elim said. 

“I’m not letting you into that theater,” Julian replied, immediately. 

“Oh, I certainly didn’t mean to insinuate--”

“Elim,” Kelas patiently interrupted. “Not just this moment, please.”

“Of course. Forgive me.”

Kelas stood behind the other two, leaning in enough to touch their backs at the same time, one hand firmly planted on each. 

“You said you would be sleeping in your _office_ , dear?” they asked Julian. “Won’t you join us at home, instead?”

“I gave Ezri my access code, for the door…” Julian admitted. 

“That’s perfectly alright,” Kelas assured. “They are part of your family, and as such are welcome in _your_ home.”

“You don’t _want_ to see her?” Elim asked, disguising the glimmer in his eye, stifling years of unanswered jealousy. 

“I don’t know if you saw her or not, getting off the ship… but she brought Rali, and I… I don’t think I can balance that, right now. I really need to rest.”

“No one will fault you for postponing by an hour or two,” Kelas went on, beginning to rub a circular pattern on Julian’s back - one of his favorite demonstrations of affection. 

“I don’t want to see her because I don’t want to resent her,” Julian admitted. “I want to do my job to the best of my abilities, and _then_ see her. Help her adjust _back_ to living here, while Ezri and Lenara run off back to Trill.”

“You don’t sound like you know what you want at all,” Elim observed. 

“I know I don’t want to be on edge around my daughter, because none of this is her fault. And I know I want to go to bed.”

***

As he had sourly promised, Julian confined himself to sleep in his office, and awoke the following evening with a few minutes to spare before the next scheduled procedure. He folded away his cot, changed from his robe into a fresh set of scrubs, and padded down the hall to meet his next patient. He could not recall their name; he fumbled for his padd to consult his schedule. It had become so impersonal, with the rigorous standards Starfleet was setting, so they could then arbitrarily assign worth to his and Ezri’s years of first-hand research. It was deeply frustrating, and Julian tried to remedy the situation - at least on his own end - by reading every detail he could about his next patient, enough to make them feel like more than a number on Starfleet’s register, to make them feel they were going to accomplish a goal of their own. 

He rounded the corner to the main surgical suite, where a handful of student viewers were already beginning to gather and make themselves comfortable for the night. Materrin had been moved, as instructed, to the adjacent room to rest, with the Sayl symbiont following close behind in its electrolyte-producing tank. Upon taking a closer look through the window, he noticed a Cardassian sitting inside with her. Not a student - again - but Elim. 

“Oh, Julian,” Elim said amiably, patting the space next to himself on the visitors’ sofa. “Do come in. We were having a _fascinating_ discussion.”

Rather than sit, Julian came in to check Materrin’s vitals, standing beside her bed to read the monitor built into the wall. It took a moment of conscious thought to realize he was reading fully Cardassian letters and numbers; he had adjusted so quickly to his life, here. His heart hurt for no reason, and then it hurt on Rali’s behalf. 

“It seems Nurse Sona refilled your IV this morning… you were still asleep…?” he was more telling than asking, but still waited to see Materrin’s nod. “Good. Other than tired, how are you feeling, Lieutenant?”

“Dizzy,” she mumbled. 

“Alright,” he said, making a mental note without giving her any cause for panic. “Are you feeling any other discomfort? Soreness at the incision point, a sort of ghost-sensation where your symbiont was attached, anything like that? That’s really all I have a record of to go on; Captain Tigan reported both of those side-effects within her first week of Disjoining.”

Behind him, Elim reached to tap his shoulder. Because he was sitting, his aim fell somewhat short, and he gently prodded Julian’s midsection. Julian, meanwhile, was preparing to load a hypospray, reading her vitals to adjust its precise output. He did not turn around to acknowledge Elim.

“I have had to speak more slowly,” Elim explained, “but it still has been a lovely conversation. In fact, she _has_ mentioned ghost pains, and I compared it to something I witnessed this morning with your daughter and Ms. Kahn--”

“Elim, please. Not right now.” Julian slowed his words, “Here, Lieutenant. This will help with the dizziness. Can you hear me alright?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“May I see your hands, please? Hold them forward.”

Materrin did as she was asked, with her hands shaking as she stretched forward. One at a time, Julian squeezed them tight and turned them over to study both sides. 

“Did Nurse Sona remove your assistive device?” Julian asked. 

“Hmm?”

“Your glove?”

Again, Materrin held her hand forward, as if this was a sufficient answer all on its own. 

“Elim, how long have you been here? You didn’t happen to see what she--?”

“Less than an hour, my dear,” Elim replied. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much help.”

“I’m never worried about _that_ ,” Julian grumbled, as he lifted Materrin’s hand and checked to see if her glove had slid into her sleeve. 

With no luck there, he asked about adjusting her blanket, then the stack of pillows she was reclining against. He found it shoved firmly beneath the headboard, and worried the sharp edge of the Cardassian mattress may have damaged it. 

“Lieutenant?” he asked, but she did not even look at him. “Materrin, did you put this here?”

As he pulled his arm free and returned her pillows to their previous condition, her gaze was moved to align with his own. 

“I really don’t feel well,” she managed, rushing to cover her mouth with her previously unresponsive hand. 

Julian had memorized the precise pattern to type into a hypospray to produce an effective antiemetic many years ago, a fact he was grateful for each and every time a patient needed it. He released it against her wrist, but instead of being met with the usual embarrassed gratitude, his patient lost consciousness before her head even touched the pillow. 

“Bashir to all hands,” he spoke to his communicator, but the message was broadcast through the ceiling of every room in the medical complex. “Medical emergency in recovery suite one, I need another doctor…”

While he took the scans he could with the portable equipment the room was stocked with, Kelas answered his desperate request. They came into the room with their arms full of assorted kits; Julian had not been specific in his requirements. Elim stood up to watch this unfold, moving into the open door frame so he would not be in the doctors’ way. 

“Inconsistencies with the monitor?” Kelas asked, nodding their head toward the machine in question. 

For all their good intent, it was a fair but insulting assumption. Julian took a quick glance - the screen did not show any issues with Materrin’s heart-rate or depth of breathing - but something was clearly wrong. He took a cortical scanner from Kelas’s collection and held it to her temple, looking to get his own second opinion. He was not frustrated with Kelas, only with himself. Because surely...

“She’s rejecting… I don’t know what. The lack of symbiont. The nerve closure. _Why didn’t I see this before it happened_?”

“There was nothing to see,” Kelas said kindly, having observed the entire procedure themself. “You did exactly the same as you did to Ezri.”

“Ezri wasn’t conditioned for Joining in the first place!” Julian was restless. “I can’t believe I’ve… cancel the entire wait-list. I can’t do this, I was _way_ too ambitious.”

“Would I be of any help,” Elim began quietly, “if I were to ask exactly _what_ Ms. Materrin’s symptoms are?”

“To put it simply: no signals her brain initiates are making it past that point,” Julian sighed. “Not a thing. I’m sure she’s only breathing because she’s still attached to the machine. I can’t see any subconscious activity. The problems communicating were just the start of it. Of course they were. _Unbelievable_.”

“She is still breathing,” Kelas reminded him of the positive angle. 

“Is it possible you… perhaps you connected two pieces which were not supposed to meet one another?” Elim asked. 

“You mean ‘I made a mistake?’” Julian’s laugh was bitter. “No. No, I didn’t. I can remember every _second_ of that surgery. It’s all recorded, as well, if you don’t believe me.”

“I am not here to critique you, Julian,” Elim said, being careful not to sound affronted. “I am here to help you find a solution, something I _know_ you will do.”

Julian allowed himself a moment of quiet introspection, suppressing the habit of entering a verbal spar with Elim. Materrin would need better support in order to adjust, he thought. How had he gone to sleep at all? What had happened to his devotion to his patients, why was he--? No, it was not about him. It was about adjustment, about returning to one’s original level after a great robbery and depletion, no matter how urgently the patient wanted it. Elim had not interfered with her - that thought did not even cross Julian’s mind as a serious possibility, anymore, but a laughable one. In fact, Elim had been consistently supportive of Julian’s presence in his life, aside from an occasional, idle threat of jealousy aimed at Ezri. It was about balancing pieces. Materrin had certainly lived her own life, before, and Julian knew _that_ was what he needed to dig out. 

Ezri had the same trepidation about her procedure: being unsure of what identity would be left for her to return to. She needed help, love, and support. So would Materrin. 

Julian took her assistive glove and slid it carefully back into place, satisfied to see her fingers begin moving one at a time, despite the static on the monitor. 

“Would you call Ezri, please?” he asked both of his partners at once, so Elim would not feel directly slighted. “I have an idea, but I need her opinion on it.”

 _Hell_ , he thought, _she’s this woman’s commanding officer. If Materrin can’t give consent, I need Ezri’s approval on it._

“I’d be happy to,” Elim said, without even a hint of displeasure. “I knew you’d come up with something.”

***

With Ezri came Rali and Lenara and Dax in its cylinder of water. The whole family came clustered together, requiring Kelas to open the partition in the recovery suite to accommodate all of its new occupants. Julian was not happy to see Rali there, _especially_ since Lenara could have remained in the house with her. 

He shook the resentment out of mind, and volunteered his arms forward to hold her. It was not hard for him to multitask, and he did not worry about her understanding more than an occasional word of what he needed to say. He began to outline his theory for returning Materrin to consciousness, through both another surgery and a counseling regimen. He realized his arms were still empty, and he looked over to Ezri, bewildered. 

“She only likes Lenara to hold her, anymore,” Ezri explained, so he would not get his hopes up too high in case of rejection. “She likes to feel the symbiont.”

“Well, don’t we all,” Julian said flatly, with his arms still outstretched. 

“Dax,” Rali mumbled. 

“She calls all of them ‘Dax,’” Ezri explained. 

“That’s probably my fault,” Julian said, sighing with relief when Rali eventually accepted his embrace. He softened his voice for her, always. “There, that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Dax,” she repeated, sounding only slightly unhappy. 

“When I was _young_ ,” Julian said pointedly, knowing those who _knew_ would not need him to clarify, “I had similar trouble with identifying different things as, well… _different_.”

“That’s why this is such a surprise to me,” Ezri said. “How is your idea for Materrin _not_ augmentation?”

“I beg your pardon?” Julian was genuinely surprised. “I was just pointing out that _I_ might’ve caused our daughter some additional difficulties with comprehension, that’s all. Some neurodevelopmental disorders can be genetically inherited, and that would have come from my side. I mean, they were hardly able to make any changes to my reproductive system when _I was seven_ , and had all this done _against my will_.”

With haste, he gestured over his whole body, then tossed his hands dejectedly, about to surrender his own point.

“The procedures I underwent afterward,” he went on, looking like Ezri had betrayed one of their private conversations, even though the detail was all being divulged now at his own discretion, “were _minimal_ , and I struggled for _years_ with making that decision, trying to reconcile that I was not changing _myself_ , but bringing some sense of completion to my identity, to the way I _always felt_ about myself. And I-- I can’t _believe_ you’d bring that up. Do you think I’d want to change our daughter, _against her will_? Why would you say that?!”

Ezri had not acted in the role of a counselor for several months, and could hardly recall the private sessions Julian was referencing. But she still saw the need to de-escalate the situation, and to address him with the reasonable answers he deserved.

“You’re suggesting anyone with a symbiotic nerve needs it modified to be able to function,” she summarized. “And that has no relation to the artificial symbiont you want to build for Lieutenant Moller…?”

“None at all,” Julian said, stroking his fingers tenderly through Rali’s hair, calming both of them. “There is _certainly_ a place in this universe for our daughter, just the way she is. And anyway, I’d hardly call it augmentation, or gender confirmation - Trill ought to be more understanding of _that_.”

“They are. _I am._ I’m sorry.” 

“Fine. If anything, it’s a medical step _backward_... Have you ever heard of a pacemaker?”

“Would you make Rali one? One of the symbionts, I mean.”

Julian furrowed his brows and squinted, showing disbelief. He did not know why Ezri was still so hung up on this point.

“Yes, if she wanted one, and felt comfortable using it to stimulate her symbiotic nerve, assuming she doesn’t pursue a natural Joining. But if you’re suggesting I would _force_ her? You don’t remember me at _all_ , do you? I am _not_ my father.”

Ezri was silent for a moment, apart from hissing through her nostrils, as if she herself was deflating along with her argument. Julian did not see this as a bad sign, and he was correct.

“Maybe I don’t remember as well I’d like to,” she admitted. “But now that I think back to it… I know it wasn’t your choice, and it isn’t something you can undo. Not like, um… that.”

She tipped her head toward Dax’s tank, and made another sound through her nose - much closer to a laugh, this time. 

“But I wouldn’t have said ‘no.’” Ezri emphasized, in reference to her Joining. 

“Neither would I,” Julian admitted. “But that’s all hypothetical. We’re making those decisions after they’ve happened, with all the knowledge we didn’t have at the start. Now, er...”

He wrung his hands and the room went quiet, until he made reparations.

“Now, Lieutenant _Moller_ ,” he said her name reverently - in a way, he was the cause of it, “did not come into this procedure with the same advantages you had. One could argue she was physically altered to _require_ Joining, and that her parents forced that on her, in fact.”

“I get it.”

“It was… ridiculous of me… to think she could come to terms with it in the same way you did. What I’m suggesting is an inorganic device made to help circulate the signals sent through the symbiotic nerve. Other than that, entirely inert. I’m going to base it on her assistive glove, to make sure the components are not a threat to her immune system. I can start immediately, and it shouldn’t take more than six days, a perfectly safe amount of time for her to remain attached to the breathing machine. Is that satisfactory, _Captain_?”

He said it almost teasingly, certainly lightly enough for Ezri to smile. 

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll get started.”

With Rali still balanced between his arm and his hip, he turned to discuss further details with Kelas. Ezri cleared her throat. 

“You’re… not upset that I brought her here? I can take her back home, unless you want me to stay and d--”

“No, no, it’s no trouble for the time being. I think she might enjoy it.” He ran his fingers through her hair again, and held her head close to his chest. “Here, sweetheart. We’re going to build a Dax…”

***

Julian spent the remaining nights off in his office, becoming increasingly grateful for the support of his family. It was a sensation he first came to know during his early years in Starfleet, but it was one he outgrew as crew assignments changed, and as that station became more intensely personal than any starship ever could have. 

Rali visited often, with one host parent or another, always thrilled to see Julian’s latest developments on the artificial symbiont. Elim and Kelas made whatever excuses Julian needed, and brought him cups of coffee instead of frustrated patients. Ezri brought her usual protection and introspective questions disguised in a friendly voice and a soft handshake. Julian came to enjoy the gesture almost as much as he had their first, most tentative kisses - several years ago, now. 

The only one present for the entirety of the building process was Dax, who circled calmly but aimlessly in its tank of nutrient water, offering Julian companionship and inspiration. 

On the first night - out of the six Julian said the build would require - Ezri snuck in quietly, sat down on the floor, and scooched in close enough to touch Julian’s arm in greeting. 

He glanced over. Then yawned, and looked at the time. 

“Hello,” he said softly. 

That was enough preamble for Ezri. 

“I wanted to apologize,” she said. “Sincerely, and just between the two of us.”

He shrugged one shoulder at Dax, and she gave a weak laugh and a ‘yeah.’

“But seriously,” she went on. “The _last_ thing I wanted you to feel was… doubting yourself and your identity. I know saying ‘I didn’t bring it up’ is no excuse, the fact is you were thinking about it, and I should’ve been more considerate. I didn’t need to dredge that up in front of your whole family.”

“My whole family?” Julian chuckled. “It’s almost a shame my parents weren’t here… they only _recently_ started coming around to the idea of having a _son_. Or maybe that was just the station translator looking out for me, hmm.”

“I want to look out for you, too. Even if we aren’t… together-together. I wish I had clearer memories of it, of when you told Jadzia. She would’ve thrown your dad out an airlock, and I _really_ want to feel that anger right now.”

Julian’s laugh brightened, the tiniest bit, and then he demurred at the notion of violence, and he wondered…

“I wonder if he learned anything,” Julian said glumly. “Probably not.”

Ezri looked up, and waited patiently for Julian to meet her gaze. 

“I want to help you put him out of your mind. You are an _amazing_ father. And what you’re doing right now? You’re doing this because you care _so deeply_ for people in need. He didn’t do any of that to you because he _cared about you_. That’s the most ridiculous excuse I - umm, Jadzia? - ever heard. He was only looking out for himself.”

“Thank you,” said Julian, earnestly. 

She did not feel so forward as to kiss his head, but as she stood she patted it, and he chuckled again at her choice of affection. 

“It’s fine, it feels nice,” he assured her. “Thanks. I’ll get to sleep soon, don’t worry.”

On the fifth night, Ezri came into the office again, biting her lip and clutching a padd tightly in one hand. 

“I don’t know how else to stall them, Julian,” she said, with a frustrated sigh. “One of my aides, on the waitlist… Starfleet picked up her _personal log_ about the confusion. She didn’t give any details, just like I told all of my crew, but Starfleet thinks that’s even _more_ suspicious.”

“And what,” said Julian, worn down by his nonstop work. 

The artificial symbiont was nearly finished, resting inside a frame on Julian’s desk, playing a practice round with a heartbeat - Julian’s own, in fact - with one device pumping the information in, and one bringing it safely out again. Julian considered this precautionary test at least partially responsible for his recent calmness and focus, with a rhythm to rely on and a patient’s life to restore. It was the same, but different. 

“And,” Ezri eventually replied, “they’re sending a representative next week. To check up on you, the message says. But I think that _actually_ means to relieve me of command.”

“Moller needs a counselor a good deal more than a captain, doesn’t she?” Julian tried to sound kind, and switched off the monitor he wore on his chest, letting it slow and lapse into silence before removing the matching cable from the symbiont. “How are your visits going?”

Both of them continued seeing Lieutenant Moller on at least a daily basis, with Julian doing careful checks of her vitals and Ezri trying to strike up conversation of any kind at all. 

“Yeah. Not ideal,” Ezri replied. “I thought the eosin might help, since she has been non-verbal since the surgery, but… that only seems to be intuitive to symbionts. Then I thought I’d have her paint with me, but her fine motor skills are just… gone.”

“Yeah,” Julian echoed. “I’ll be able to take care of that tomorrow morning.”

He stood up from his desk, cupped his hand reassuringly over Ezri’s shoulder, and then continued toward the other side of the room, where his cot folded out from the wall. 

“Wait, you’re finished?” she asked, taking a quick step forward to steal a look at the symbiont on the table. 

“Nearly,” Julian said, before sitting down on the cot, reaching down to unzip his boots. “I need the rest, obviously, and then at about… oh, 2200 hours… I’ll get up for an hour or so, to start synchronizing the symbiont’s patterns with those on Moller’s breathing machine. That’ll ensure a smooth transition.”

“That’s it…?”

“That’s it.”

“What about the gaps in her memory? I guess those are all _my_ problem?”

Julian felt too tired to be truly taken aback. He confined his reaction to a few dramatic blinks of his eyes, and a louder-than-necessary sliding of his shoes beneath his bed. 

“That was the solution _we_ came to,” Julian said, yawning and unzipping his uniform coat, haphazardly hanging it over his bed frame and laying down to sleep in the mesh white undershirt. “I’ve been keeping a _constant_ eye on her neural activity, and - even if I _were_ alright with reconstructing her brain chemistry from scratch - there’s nothing _there_."

“If that’s true, there’s nothing counseling can do for her,” Ezri said, as if the fact should have been obvious. 

In its tank, Dax tapped its tail audibly against the wall. Habit brought Ezri’s hand to her utility belt, where she usually kept dye and parchment for Dax to use in its communications. Then, she recalled the tank was equipped with its own supply of eosin and a screen, so Dax could manipulate it into patterns any time it wished. 

“Julian…” Ezri said.

“I thought it might be comparable to trauma,” he replied incorrectly to the prompt, because he was not looking at her. “The memories _will_ resurface, but only if you and… maybe the Sayl symbiont as well, why not… only if you talk about them with her. There’s nothing I can put back together, from a purely surgical standpoint.”

“No, come here,” Ezri went on. “Dax is feeling left out.”

Julian sprang up from bed, drawn equally by duty and the pure wonderment Dax commanded from him. He came to crouch beside the tank, with Ezri setting down her padd and getting to her knees to join him. 

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he said teasingly, leaning over the water. “I need input from the symbiont? Or did you get me out of bed just to take Ezri’s side.”

**> Y E -**

Dax had begun to arrange its letters into _‘yes’_ but quickly scrubbed away its progress and started over. When it pressed the widest flare of its tail against the inner side of the screen, even the smallest of movements and vibrations would set the dye into motion; Dax would then solidify it into readable spots with interference from the chemistry of its natural glow. 

**T O U C H >**

The flaring shapes denoted statements when placed at the beginning of its thoughts, and the intonation of a question when placed at the end. Dax had learned many languages in its lifetimes, and learned to simplify to a format both Ezri and Julian - its most frequent audience - could understand intuitively. Humans had question-marks, Trill humanoids had high-pitched chirps, and Dax had millions of possible combinations of spots. 

“Touch what?” Julian asked it, with his hand hovering near the glass as a precaution. 

** > Y O U **

“Me?” 

**> M E **

Julian could almost imagine a teasing tone coming from the symbiont, how easily it would have guided any of its beloved hosts toward humor, toward comfort. He put his palm softly against the glass, spreading his fingers for Dax to register despite its almost complete lack of vision. It would feel the heat, sense the sudden falling shadows…

**> T O U C H**

Even though Julian could calculate risks almost instantly in any number of partially-known scenarios, it took a great deal of fear - which Julian did not often possess - to dissuade him from trying something for himself. With the calculations done and disregarded, he unlocked the top of Dax’s vault, and slipped his hand inside the gap, moving down gradually into the water. 

“Dax…” Ezri warned. “Temporary Joinings _aren’t_ a good idea for you. You get too invested, you’ve had too many traumatic experiences. You--”

**U S >**

**> N O T **

**> J O I N I N G**

Julian’s hand was still submerged in the water, and he offered Ezri a nervous half-smile. 

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” he asked.

“No. I’ve done it.”

“I’m not going to hurt it,” Julian assured her. “If there’s something you want to show me, Dax, go right ahead.”

“Julian--”

But as quickly as Julian could weigh out hypotheticals, Dax could hear and register a request for its assistance. For almost every instant of its lifetime, it had experienced this feeling: being called upon to give aid to its hosts. It had only allowed two beings to truly care for it in return, and these had been the Kahn symbiont, and a human named Julian Bashir. 

This was the precise ingredient Julian’s artificial symbiont was missing. _The compassion_. 

Slowly, Dax secured itself around Julian’s wrist, slipping its tail into a tight lace between his fingers, and pressing its head further upward until it rested in the crook of his elbow. Julian removed his arm from the water, only because he could not fit any further inside, and Dax had already lifted its gills above the water-line anyway.

He dipped his other hand into the tank and drew it out again, dripping wet, before patting Dax gently and repeatedly, up and down its full length. He only wanted it to be comfortable and happy, able to adjust to its new surroundings, able to--

Then the memories arrived, as Julian patted Dax’s abdomen, and brought its symbiotic nerve into contact with his forearm. They came gradually at first, then in increasingly vivid detail and alarming speed. Dax only shared what Julian needed - refraining entirely from memories created by the hosts he had not met - but it was still a large amount of information for anyone to process. 

He felt himself carrying Rali. Giving birth to her, nursing her, sitting on the floor with her and sharing her frustrations over mistimed words. 

Then time seemed to move backward, and he was aware of himself being held in his arms, sleeping beside himself, expressing love and devotion to himself. Learning from himself, relying on himself in ways he used to rely on… yes, on Jadzia. 

Once he understood the roles, the memories continued even further backward, until he was aware of himself holding himself - _Dax_ , quivering and afraid - lifting himself from Jadzia’s body. His hands felt safe and steady, they always did. 

Even now, as one pressed firmly into Dax’s back, letting it inhale the droplets of water from his fingers. With very little resistance, it raised the symbiotic nerve, and Julian gradually began feeling like himself again. 

The office was dark, but his immediate surroundings were illuminated by Dax’s blue glow. He glanced over his shoulder at his bed - his first thought was that he had been dreaming - but then he recalled more specific details, and faced forward again. Ezri was looking at him with some concern, and even leaned in to remove Dax from his forearm, sliding the exhausted symbiont back into its tank. 

“Well, I…” he said, taking a rattling breath, “I believe those are the memories _you_ wanted back. I hope you can… if you want to, I mean… I hope you can have a chance to experience them, yourself.”

Ezri squinted in slight disbelief, but the situation could only become clearer to her after it became clearer to Julian, so she gave him the reassurance he needed. 

“Don’t worry about that right now. Did Dax say anything about the artificial symbiont?”

“No, it didn’t need to. I...” he paused, and started again, “ _You_ need input from a real symbiont. If you’ve had it before, you _always_ need it, you… co-evolved in order to share knowledge, not necessarily to Join…”

“Can you explain that?” she asked patiently.

He was tired and his face was red, but he tried. 

“All of this _is_ compatible with our research, so far,” he said. “It’s not surprising we couldn’t see it as a separate element. Trill symbionts have Joined to humans before, and it hasn’t done the human any permanent damage. I don’t have a symbiotic nerve. But you do, and Dax does - _Rali does_ , and she _thrives_ with contact from a symbiont - and once those nerves have been… activated, so to speak… they need continuous input. Obviously, if one isn’t careful, separating the nerves can lead to hemorrhaging and the death of the host, but even if one _is_ careful - virtually incapable of making a mistake - the lack of symbiotic input… that can have equally negative consequences. What kind of a life is it, if you can’t remember who you are? That’s what Dax wanted to show me: who I was, who I _am_.”

“Who you might become, someday,” Ezri added.

“Exactly! Ezri, your symbiotic nerve isn’t doing you any good, withering away like it is. Just like Dax, confined to a tank for the foreseeable future.”

“This isn’t about me right now,” she reminded him. “And I don’t want to keep Dax from Joining ever again, indefinitely. I just don’t want it to rush into anything and… get itself hurt. Like you and I did.”

Both of them were still seated on the floor, with Dax illuminating the space between them. Julian scooted forward, closing the gap, offering Ezri his hand. She leaned her weight forward, as if he was providing his hand to help her stand up, but he remained still until she lowered herself again. 

“What you and I did,” Julian repeated, with an unplaceable fondness, “was give it the tools it needs to make those decisions for itself. And what you and I _and_ Dax can do, now, is give that same opportunity to any other Trill who wants it.”

Ezri nodded, solemn and proud, and rushed to stand up for herself, so she could help Julian up. 

“I’ll get you an extra day,” she promised, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “So you have time to confer with Dax, I mean. Now, how ‘bout some sleep? I’ll guard the door myself if I have to.”

He could never recall a time he saw her more comfortable in her captainly role, stepping in to give him exactly the help he needed. Smiling about this as he walked back to his bed, he thought about everything they had been to each other.

***

Ezri kept both her promise _and_ her commission, with a carefully-worded message to Starfleet Command about the nature of Julian’s delays. She also stood in front of the door long enough for him to sleep without being interrupted by Elim and Kelas - who understood the details - or Rali or any of his students - who did not.

The Trill delegation was a perfectly responsive audience. Already accustomed to Ezri’s specific patterns of speech regarding symbionts - treating them as separate entities, extrapolating their feelings from patterns of dye - the delegation was receptive to her explanation of Julian’s theory. He sat in the crowded waiting room among them, facing the surgical theater, listening with pride as Ezri spoke.

“That’s why I’m going to try it myself, before we schedule any further procedures for Lieutenant Moller or anyone else on my board,” she concluded. “Are there any questions?”

With the delegation all but silent, she thanked them and announced the time they should return. She allotted herself a short break - no more than an hour - so she and Julian could make their final preparations for the procedure. 

First among these was returning to his office, where the rest of their family was gathered. Kelas was in the corner, cleaning their hands at the station beside Julian’s desk, while Lenara, Rali, and Elim were reclining at various angles against Julian’s stowaway cot. Rali was sitting almost equidistant between Lenara and Elim, but still waved her arms desperately and often in Lenara’s direction, reaching to feel Kahn against her hand. Lenara had begun denying her more and more frequently, aiming to wean her from the impractical dependence. In these instances, she would scoot closer to Elim, who kindly directed her attention to a toy symbiont he held in his hands - one he had rushed to make since learning Rali preferred to leave her original model at home. 

When Ezri preceded Julian into the office, Rali greeted each of them with an excited squeal, at a particular pitch she often chose to use instead of their honorifics. 

“Oh yes, I see,” Elim was saying, patting the plush toy affectionately, distractedly, before setting it aside. “Even _I_ would have a hard time keeping so many variables straight.”

Rali scrambled down from the bed-frame and across the room toward her parents, extending her arms in a silent request to be picked up. Julian obliged and balanced her weight against his hip as he took his own tour of the room, passing Kelas at the sanitizing station before gathering his scrubs and Ezri’s gown from the clean replicator cabinet. Instead of fixating on his chest, Rali squeezed her hands around Julian’s forearm.

“Dax,” she said, reverently.

“That’s right,” Julian said, making his way toward his desk for a final round of readings. 

Lenara and Elim continued their conversation despite the sudden loss of their prime subject, who was now babbling quietly, cooing and singing against her father’s arm. 

“I mean, I haven’t been a mother _myself_. And Kahn has taken two lifetimes off of raising children with its hosts, since losing Torias… but I still feel as though I’m… in three completely different ways, I am raising my spouse’s child. And I want to feel sufficient, without negating her true parentage.”

“Parentage,” Elim insisted, “has only to do with who _raises_ the child. On Cardassia, parents who inherit their children are far more common - and often more deserving - than those who merely lay the eggs.”

“You’ve talked about it?” Ezri inferred in a quiet voice, as she took her gown from Julian, crumpled it under her arm, and sat down beside Lenara. 

“That benefits _you_ ,” Lenara’s tone was undecided, as she looked at Elim. “I know it isn’t permanent, and it _scares_ me. But I think, if Kahn were removed, she wouldn’t feel that way to me, anymore. She wouldn’t feel like… mine, but _not_ mine, someone I cannot help losing.”

Without preamble, Ezri slid her hand up Lenara’s arm, resting it around her shoulder, draping the surgical gown against Lenara’s back like a blanket.

“She’s… you’ve been great with her,” Ezri began, “but she’s not a way for you and I to apologize to each other. She isn’t Kahn’s daughter, or Nilani’s, or Jadzia’s. She’s _mine_ and Dax’s, and I’m going to get those memories back for myself. Not for _us_.”

“I wish I felt that same clarity.”

“You will.”

At this point, reluctant to intrude on any intimacy, Elim dusted his hands over the sides of his trousers and stood. He approached Julian slowly and quietly, holding out the plush symbiont as a peace offering to Rali as he came closer. With his usual subtlety, he slid his other hand down to meet Julian’s, braced over his hip where he was supporting Rali’s weight. 

“Well, that’s Dax ready,” Julian said at once, as if Elim’s touch had been to prompt him. 

In reality, Elim intended to relax him, to spark closeness, but Julian had years of practicing this type of response, and it was difficult for him to undo. 

He and the symbiont had been conversing using the eosin panel on the tank, with Julian clarifying the procedure and Dax giving its consent. 

“I’ll need to sanitize the artificial symbiont,” Julian explained, to the whole room at once. “Ezri, if you’d like to close the partition in order to change… or Kelas can show you to the restroom down the hall…”

Ezri could not bring herself to leave, while Rali seemed so comfortable with her parents - one who was naturally hers, and two who had inherited her. It was exactly the reassurance she was looking for, and she squeezed Lenara’s hand before reaching to close the curtain which surrounded the cot. 

“I’ll stay,” she said. 

Meanwhile, Elim leaned in to address Rali, speaking in a lilting tone and pointing to the lifeless symbiont. Rali tore her attention away from Julian’s arm, following the path of Elim’s index finger, instead.

“I believe you will enjoy this part in particular, my dear,” he said sweetly.

Elim took her from Julian’s arms, and they both watched with the same enraptured expressions, as Julian flipped a series of switches on the artificial symbiont, making gears turn and cables flex as it was brought - in its own unique way - to life. 

“Dax!” she shrieked with delight, and pointed at it just like Taya Elim had done. 

The curtain reopened, and Ezri emerged in her hospital gown, with Lenara following her out and fussing over the tie on the back of her collar. Kelas came to stand across from Julian at the desk, ready and willing to assist in any way they were asked. With care, Julian scooped up the artificial symbiont and took it to be sanitized, leaving Kelas and the others to lift and unlock Dax’s vault. 

“There were mechanical symbionts in your vision, weren’t there?” Julian asked. When he was not acknowledged, he turned to glance over his shoulder and added, “Captain?”

“There were,” Ezri said. “But they were different, somehow. It’s hard for me to remember.”

“Well, we’ll sort that out,” Julian assured, returning to the desk with the symbiont resting in his gloved hands, cleaned and sanitized. 

To test the device’s symbiotic abilities, Julian was required to lower it into the vault alongside Dax. Ideally, the two would exchange vast quantities of knowledge, memories of experience, through luminescence and touch - the way their ancestors had done in evolutionary swampgrounds beneath the homeworld’s surface.

Julian proceeded cautiously, watching Dax extend its symbiotic nerve forward in greeting. The artificial symbiont was not by any means an android, capable of learning and adapting to social pleasantries, so it did not reciprocate. All it could do was take in the information Dax provided it, and turn its internal mechanisms in a manner its host would find conducive to independence. 

Dax understood its role in the transfer, and pulsed and glowed and unraveled its tail for the machine’s benefit. Rali found it fascinating, too, and leaned in as close to the glass as Elim would dare allow her. 

“See?” Elim prompted her, in the same soft tone.

“I’d say we’re nearly ready,” Julian said, slowly letting the machine slip down from his fingers. 

Always opportunistic, Dax swam past the artificial symbiont and lodged itself firmly inside one of Julian’s glove, wrapping its tail securely around the crook just beneath his elbow, and burrowing its face against his wrist. 

It could not be persuaded to leave before the end of its ultimatum, which it spoke eagerly through Julian:

“I’m... going to assist,” he said. 

***

Julian felt more powerful now, compared to the first time he and Dax had Joined. He had a better understanding of separating the memories and experiences, sifting through for ones he needed, expertly coupling them with pieces of his own background. Although he could not express vocally the way Dax felt, its motivation for supervising the surgery, it felt clear enough to him. It felt like redemption, precaution, making a friend safe, making a child feel understood. 

“I would prefer we remain right here,” Julian said, in a tone caught between the arrogance of his youth, and Dax’s eternal grace. “Dismiss the students. Please.”

Kelas carried out this command, while Ezri and Elim took turns fretting at Julian.

“It’s a very tame procedure,” he said, because he knew it would soothe both of their concerns simultaneously. “A single incision, routine fusing of the symbiotic nerve system. I don’t think I could even rupture a capillary, if I tried to. Not… not that I _would_ try. Would you care to sit down, please?”

He shepherded Ezri back to the cot, where a disbelieving Lenara rushed to get out of the way. She tugged the curtains completely open and stowed Ezri’s uniform beneath the bed-frame, then went to stand near the desk with Elim and Kelas, who was just returning from their errand down the hall.

When they were working, they were rarely still. Rather than leaning on the desk, they leaned metaphorically on their experience as a combat medic, having conducted gruesome and joyous procedures in the hot sand with only limited tools. Julian’s office was certainly several steps above the sand pits, and Kelas was able to gather a handful of hyposprays to load with anaesthetics and anodynes, two vital components that were virtually unheard of at the mining camp where they earned their title.

They helped Ezri recline comfortably, and they monitored her vitals while Julian began to make the single incision, as cleanly and professionally as promised. 

Elim held his hand over Rali’s eyes. Lenara looked on, pleasantly surprised, and mumbled something about misjudging him. 

“Oh, far more forgivable than misjudging my partner,” Elim said plainly, gesturing with his elbow toward Julian. The man was capable of all kinds of surprises, and it never failed to bring Elim amusement. Years ago, it brought him frustration, but not anymore.

“Still,” Lenara said, in a way she had undeniably picked up from Ezri.

It brought Elim more comfort than he expected - a sense that Lenara, like Ezri, was interested in debating him playfully, without substance. There was soft insistence and palpable concern, in the single word, and Elim tucked it away lovingly in his memory. It felt like closure.

“There,” he said to Rali; he uncovered her eyes as Julian set aside his laser scalpel. “Do you see? Your mother is getting her symbiont back.”

Rali did not voice any understanding, but nodded and watched exactly as Elim directed. 

Julian scooped up the artificial symbiont and slid it in beneath Ezri’s skin. There was a squelching sound - like gasping for breath - and Julian broke his professional composure for a moment to give a gasp of his own. The sound was merely the symbiont shuffling into place, moving through a constricted area, but it reminded him - _personally_ \- of the times he had… died. At his own hand, no less, with idle reassurances coming from himself and Jadzia. It was all going to be fine. 

“Nerve stimulator, please,” he made himself sound calm as he turned to address Kelas. 

Kelas provided the tool in question.

“Shall I close the partition?” they asked. 

“We’re nearly finished,” Julian insisted. “Dax knows exactly which nerves need to be connected.”

“So do _you_ ,” Kelas said. 

“Yes… but if it wants to guide my hand, I’m going to let it.”

In illustration of his point, Julian passed the stimulator from his right hand to his left, where Dax was coiled up inside his glove, eager to make itself useful.

As it turned out, Dax had rarely wanted anything _more_ . It had admired Julian’s compassion for years, and often found itself at the receiving end of his grand gestures. Now, it took control of his hand, the final executor of _all_ his expertise. From an affectionate squeeze to an athletic aim to an intricate surgery, they carried out all of his finest qualities. Dax controlled them with a sense of reverence, and it could not help but curl Julian’s lips up into a smile, as it looked down protectively on Ezri. Throughout all of its lifetimes, it found itself fortunate enough to be gathered in a little room with the individuals who brought it the most change and satisfaction. 

It completed the necessary connections, withdrew the stimulator, and prepared to close the incision, all while humming happily and tightening its grip on Julian’s wrist. It had come to the all too common realization that its time was due to expire, but it took comfort in knowing it was not due to the death of its host; that was an experience it was ready to leave behind, permanently.

“Thank you, Kelas,” Julian said at last, when the wound was closed and cleaned. “Start diluting the anaesthetic. I’d like her awake by… hmm… in about fifteen minutes.”

“Of course, Julian,” Kelas replied to all of it at once.

He turned to his observers, and to Dax’s empty vault on the floor. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Elim asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer. “Of all your record-breaking surgeries, who knew the added aid of a Trill symbiont would allow you to take your talents even further…?”

Julian smiled in his usual, prideful way, and touched Elim’s shoulder. 

“I had a feeling it might,” Julian said. 

“It _was_ amazing to watch,” Lenara added. “You’ve eased a lot of my worries, if I’m to get it done myself…”

At this point, Rali became restless, and stretched her hands out toward Julian. Since he was already standing close to Elim, he gathered her in his arms without any difficulty at all, and when he bowed his head to kiss the top of hers, he did so with an entirely new type of affection and awe, then turned and did the same to Ezri. Dax often loved its hosts and adored their children, and without finding exact words to articulate the feeling, he got a sense of why Dax sang so loudly during her birth. It had felt unmatched love and compassion from Julian and Ezri, and while it knew there would be a time their child - its child, too - left the womb it protectively presided over, it felt pride and sadness and hope beyond measure, all at once.

“Dax?” Rali asked, patting Julian’s cheek, then shoulder, then working her way down each of his arms. 

She would reach the glove-stowed symbiont eventually, but Julian offered her his hand to speed the process.

“I’m right here, darling,” Julian said.

Rali peeled the glove away from Julian’s skin, stuck her finger determinedly inside, and squealed with delight upon touching the symbiont. Julian’s skin was cold and slimy and speckled red from Dax’s eosin residue, but the sight brought Rali great joy and comfort. Dax turned and struggled upward, letting its tail touch Julian’s palm as it tried to propel itself forward for Rali to touch. 

She laughed once in delighted disbelief, like she was seeing a magic trick, and gave the symbiont a kiss on its head.

***

Dax refused to share any of its sadness with Julian, as it swam free of his glove and settled back down at the bottom of its tank, exhausted. Instead, it left him with a sense of clarity and hopefulness, and pride in himself through another being’s eyes. It left him with the determination to get back to his other patient, and the waitlist following. And it left Ezri with all of the memories she had played an equal role in creating, stowing them safely inside a little machine that would never wear out or hassle its host, the way Dax would. It knew, now, that finding satisfaction after separation was a long process, so it curled up at the base of the vault and watched all the things its family could achieve, now that they did not need to worry about its wellbeing. How fortunate it felt, to finally relax and observe. 

Per its request, its vault sat amongst the rows of students who watched Julian perform Lieutenant Materrin Moller’s procedure. After a brief conversation with the Sayl symbiont - a dazzling light-show that Rali loved watching - Sayl understood the expectations, and gave Materrin full access to the memories it had shielded from her, while they were Joined. Julian, Ezri, and Lenara all agreed its resistance to share experiences was in some way due to lack of proper training or consent to Join in the first place, and Ezri sat down beside the symbiont’s tank and set up a future appointment with it, to find out more. 

When she awoke, Materrin could move her fingers unassisted, and into dozens of precise technical maneuvers, making a belated connection to the hundreds of routine repairs she had made as Lieutenant Sayl. She no longer felt incomplete without her glove, but without a hyperspanner. 

“But it doesn’t mean I need to go out and become an engineer all over again,” Materrin said, while still recovering in a private suite. 

Julian was in the room with her, delivering her third daily dose of vitamins and electrolyte water. Recovery after what was essentially a major organ transplant required rebuilding a great deal of the body’s natural resources, a goal which became more difficult to achieve on Cardassia. It was difficult to even stay hydrated, but Julian kept a watchful eye on all of his patients, and indeed on anyone not properly acclimated to the planet, like he was. The thought made him smile.

“Not at all,” Julian affirmed. “But it’s nice to know where you’ve come from, isn’t it?”

“...yes,” she said, after a while.

“If it’s something you’d like guidance on... coming to terms with,” he said kindly, “I know for a _fact_ Captain Tigan would be a wonderful resource.”

He tipped the pouch of electrolyte powder into a glass of water, and stirred it fervently before setting it on Materrin’s bedside tray. 

“That’s right. She used to be a counselor when she was Joined, didn’t she?”

“Well… yes. And prior to her Joining, as well. One might say she treated Dax like a patient, actually.”

“And you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“ _And you_. You were her husband?”

“Yes,” he said again, taken aback. “But that’s what I needed. That arrangement worked for us then, and it still does now. It’s just gotten a little different.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I meant no offense. She’s… always said nice things about you. I was just curious. It’s more clear to me now, if that makes sense.”

“Yes, it does, due to the nature of your surgery…” Julian said quietly. “I’m… pleased to hear she thought highly of me then. We’re very good friends.”

“It’s nice to hear that, thank you,” Materrin said, taking a sip from her water before reclining on her bed. “I’ll talk to her about it. I think I’ll… talk to my old crew, too. I might have more friends back there than I realized.”

“Oh, I’d think so,” Julian said brightly. “I’ve realized that myself, about family.”

***

Lenara and Kahn were the final patients on Julian’s list. He tended to them privately, as if they were his own immediate family, in a secluded surgical suite away from any observers. The rest of the procedures were finished, and the newly Unjoined Trill officers were on their way to recovery. 

For Ezri and Lenara, their path was equally long, but they were prepared to travel it together. They planned to find themselves, and to get to know each other, while sharing this newly understood clarity with their planet, which ached for it. The Trill homeworld was in a state of chaotic decline, the typical response to the unravelling of cultural institutions like the Symbiosis Commission. Ezri was installed by the Federation to grant some stability to the Provisional Government, and she worked tirelessly to create a plan that might someday return the species to its former height and glory. 

She did not feel comfortable attempting this with any exploitable weaknesses beside her; she felt the circumstances were unfair to her family. 

So, after Julian slipped Kahn gently into Dax’s tank, the combined group came to some agreements. The two symbionts would remain on Cardassia, and so would Rali, for at least one year. That was the current term of Ezri’s provisional captaincy, and she did not wish to place either of the legendary symbionts in danger. She worried a second trend of poaching might begin, now that she had proved and codified the process by which symbionts could be used temporarily. And, as Julian pointed out, symbionts were not fully classified as Federation citizens, and therefore had no protections against the actions of their complementary humanoid species, which had Joined the Federation centuries ago. 

“Can you believe, after all this,” Ezri said dryly, “I might’ve just made everything _worse_ …?”

Lenara was dozing on her cot while Kelas adjusted her anaesthesia, the same as they did after each Symbiont Replacement procedure, to Julian’s specifications. Ezri had pulled up a chair alongside the bed, and realized as she reached to hold Lenara’s hand that she was now, essentially, a stranger. A beautiful and lonely stranger who shared her political ideals, but a stranger nonetheless. She let go of Lenara’s hand, and gently reset it along her side. 

“I can’t speak to Federation hypocrisy,” Elim began, “but I can _certainly_ promise, Captain, that it requires a great deal of suffering before one can see recognizable change in their _entire_ planet. If there are some elements of the culture you wish to modify and preserve, try to find hope in focusing only on them, for the time being. It can be exhausting, otherwise.”

“I don’t think there is anyone better equipped to handle this precise situation,” Kelas added, kindly.

“And you can either try to talk the symbionts into joining the Federation, or the humanoids into leaving it,” Julian tried to sound neutral. “You’re a very good listener, so I know you’ll find the best solution. You haven’t made anything _worse_.”

“If I may, Captain,” Elim respectfully said, before picking up his chair and arranging it directly beside hers, then sitting down in it again. “Julian has recently introduced me to a _fascinating_ human style of art.”

During the surgery itself, Elim had waited outside the room with Rali, asleep in his arms. Now, though, she was beginning to stir, and he set her down carefully on his knee, where she could have a clear view of her mother, her father, and of Lenara on the bed. 

“Until very recently,” Elim continued, “Cardassia’s prominent figures were honored with monochrome portraits. Julian himself saw a handful of them, when they were transported from biased court halls to impartial museums. I recall him saying how _Cardassian_ it was, for each piece to be cast in a single color, because I immediately disagreed. While I did not agree with the actions of each portrait subject, I reminded my partner that the goal was to highlight our consistency, as a race. The style was perpetuated to glorify commitment, even if the lesson did not stick to a single one of us.”

Rali was still quite obviously sleepy, and Ezri touched her cheek with the back of her hand, reassuring her and checking her temperature. 

“And the human style…?” Ezri asked.

“Yes,” Garak acknowledged, while Julian rolled his eyes from across the room, at how long the story was taking. “The human style, by contrast, is called ‘mosaic.’ And it was introduced to me as I expressed the desire to shatter the portrait of one particularly unsavory ex-archon.”

“‘Go ahead,’ I told you,” Julian added. “I told you to break it, and then make something new out of it. A portrait of your own, in however many clashing colors you wanted.”

“I’ll say now as I said then, dear,” Elim interjected, in a light tone, “I’ve never been victim to clashing colors. But the idea did appeal to me, of rebuilding from the past, of recognizing what went wrong and using it to create something cautionary and beautiful and new.”

“I’ll have you do my Captain’s portrait, then,” Ezri said, in her kindest voice. 

“Nothing would delight me more. And I’ve heard your daughter is a talented painter… perhaps we’ll collaborate.”

“I’d like that. I’ll take it home with me.”

It did not bother Julian, anymore, when she said ‘home’ and meant somewhere lightyears away from him. In fact, at the moment Ezri said it, he was met with his own pleasant image of the ancestral home on Cardassia, elaborate but always cozy due to the presence of his partners. He preferred things that way: challenging, but warm and forgiving when all was said and done.

When he was finished with Lenara’s medications, he dusted his hands on his smock and promised to oversee the activity Elim had planned. Lenara was allotted two days of supervised recovery before the entire ship was due back on Trill, and Julian wanted to ensure Ezri had the perfect portrait to accompany her return to office. 

Elim fell eagerly into his role as one of Rali’s guardians, holding the chips of glass carefully out of reach while she painted on the canvas sheet with her fingers. He encouraged her to experiment with color - something she generally did not do - and Julian knelt between the two of them with contentment clear on his face. 

“I cannot say it looks anything like Captain Tigan,” Elim said, confused at the praise Julian had given him. “But the general shape and use of complementary color is… symbiotic, perhaps?”

“Does abstract art not exist on Cardassia?” Julian teased. “Is it all political allegory and reinforcement of a childbearing family structure? I think this is brilliant.”

He cleared his throat and adjusted himself to sit more comfortably, as if he was planning to be there awhile.

“Could you… use a hand?” he asked. “Or would I ruin it?”

“I can _always_ use your dexterity, my dear,” Elim replied. “Perhaps you’d like to plaster some of these pieces down, when Miss Ti-- when _Rali_ is finished.”

Rali turned to look at Elim, acknowledged him with a rare nod, and then went back to her work. Elim and Julian, meanwhile, beamed at her, and sorted through an entire box of shattered portraits to find the most beautiful pieces. 

In the end - when she boarded her transport ship two days later - the portrait Ezri carried was exquisite. Elim had introduced a few scraps of fabric from his troves, and Lieutenant Moller had offered her engineering services in sealing the entire peace together in a protective casing. It did not look very much like her, but it symbolized her. It allowed her to carry everything she needed, every trait she needed to embody and every question she needed to answer. The mechanical symbiont inside her helped her to recall all of Rali’s early finger-paintings, and the resulting breakthrough in communicating with Dax. She accepted the memories wholeheartedly, and she wept tears of joy. 


End file.
